In this week’s readings, I was struck by the significant power that lies in the way we name students. García and Kleifgen argue: “Students… are often called English language learners (ELLs)… Before 2015, the federal government referred to these students as limited English proficient (LEP)” (pp.23–24). The labels focus on English deficiency rather than bilingual abilities, as observed by me. The authors agree with Flores and Rosa that academic language operates as a racialized ideological system rather than an impartial linguistic one (p. 153). The two texts show that language classification systems develop from power relationships that establish racial and cultural social structures. Student identity takes its form from labels, which result in students developing self-perceptions based on their “limited” or “ELL” status, while their peers and teachers develop certain expectations about their abilities. Ian Hacking’s concept of “making up people” becomes evident through this because categories serve as tools that generate new realities for individuals who fall under their classification.
With that being said, students receive different treatment and resource distribution based on the labels assigned to them in practice. The authors García and Kleifgen discuss how testing causes students to lose services they require for learning their home language. They also make an important point: “students may be exited from services based on test performance even when they still rely on their home language for learning” (p. 35). The testing system demonstrates a language ideology because it prioritizes English standards over the practice of bilingualism. Students who have shown understanding of English proficiency through testing can maintain their native language when seeking help with math and science content. Similarly, in “Language Ideology Revisited,” Cavanaugh argues that the system of testing operates as an ideological mechanism that connects classroom activities to institutional frameworks by enforcing English-only standards. The process of reclassification shifts from promoting fairness to ensuring students meet monolingual English standards, which may contradict their bilingual learning practices.
The idea that resonates with me most deals with the conflict between perceiving situations through the lens of deficiency and abundance. Barrett et al present a new understanding of bilingualism through their demonstration that bilingual people possess multiple languages, rather than being language-less, as he mentioned, “bilinguals have language abundance rather than a language deficit” (p. 139). This connects back to García and Kleifgen’s use of “emergent bilingual” as a more additive label. The readings present two opposing views on bilingual students, as they question whether bilingual students should be viewed as lacking abilities or as possessing special skills. I think this is where San Pedro’s Lakȟóta example becomes useful. The family members used Post-it Notes throughout their home to explain revitalization as a positive household task, which maintained its value because it restored the language to their domestic space. The practice of abundance acknowledges work activities while supporting bilingualism, as it enables people to preserve their cultural identity and ensure their survival. Educational institutions should adopt these methods by recognizing family-based traditions and teaching students to use translanguaging, storytelling, and code-meshing techniques in their learning environment.
Ultimately, the words we choose either block or enable schools to deliver suitable support to their students. The implementation of LEP or ELL labels creates a deficit mindset, which blocks our ability to progress. The implementation of translanguaging and bilingual word walls, along with family involvement in home languages through additive practices, enables us to view bilingualism as an abundance.